


A plan less ordinary

by Deezaster82



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen, M/M, MTMTE, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 14:02:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deezaster82/pseuds/Deezaster82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frag, plot, fight the accursed Autobots, refuel, recharge, frag some more and repeat...A routine? Not quite. With Megatron and Starscream, you can always expect setbacks. This time, a particular event might push the Decepticon high commanders to re-think their ways. G1/MTMTE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a G1 story, which takes place in the late episodes of season 2. There will be a few guest appearances from other continuities, and mainly MTMTE ( because, admit it, MTMTE is awesome)
> 
> But you don't need to have read MTMTE to understand the story.
> 
> Note on time measurement:
> 
> Astro-second ( also, a nanoklik): half a second.
> 
> One breem: 8,3 minutes.
> 
> One klik: 45 secondes.
> 
> One joor: 83 minutes
> 
> One orn: 20,4 hours ( a day)
> 
> Decacycle: a bit more than one week.
> 
> Megacycle: a bit more than one month.
> 
> Solarcycle: One year on Earth.
> 
> Vorn: 83 years.
> 
>  
> 
> Genre: Drama, romance, adventure, misplaced humor, sort-of supernatural.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: an Half-explicit sex scene and some very bad quotes...

**Ch 1. Prologue: The raid that couldn't fail**

It was night time, the single star around which this planet revolved would rise less than two hours later. Hours...? How comes he was starting to think like the pest that inhabited this mud-ball of a planet. _Such a ridiculous, scandalous idea_ , Megatron thought, and he did feel slightly disappointed with himself for his mind-slip.

The star would rise in one joor and five breems.

__

Much better.

Clearly they had been here for too long, courtesy of the Autobots who were getting a tad too enamored with the planet and its human vermin. Spoilsports they were, it wasn't practical to continue the war in these conditions anymore, and it was more than time they fixed that. Cybertron was waiting.

Hopefully their home planet wouldn't wait for long, not with the victory so close at hand. And as the Decepticon celebrated the start of a new era of Plenty, the offlined carcasses of Optimus Prime and his merry band of fools would rust here on this planet they so dearly loved.

Megatron smiled wickedly, even though there was no one here to see him doing so at this time of the orn. He was alone in the quiet, comforting darkness of his private quarters, with nothing to spoil the tranquility of the place, but the soft humming of ventilation fans and the sound of his own vents.

The slag maker was having a relaxing moment, seated at his desk on which laid- among a pile of other stuff- the datapad containing all the details about the raid planned that day. He had read it, ten times over. It was perfect.

He lifted a cube of high-grade to his still grinning lips, emptied its content in one swing and welcomed the burning sensation with a groan of satisfaction. This night was almost perfect, all he needed to turn it into ultimate perfection was...

A light rasping at the door.

_...This._

Soft beeping noises were heard in the silence as his visitor keyed in the entry code he wasn't supposed to know, and Megatron's grin turned feral for a brief instant before he swiftly arranged his expression into a more neutral one.

He didn't want the newcomer to know how eager he was to see him.

As the door slid open to reveal a familiar winged frame, Megatron pivoted on his chair to face whoever dared disturb him.

"Starscream," he said in a low rumble, "shouldn't you be recharging? Today will be quite the eventful orn!"

The seeker shrugged and stepped inside the Decepticon commander's domain, not on the least bothered to ask if he was allowed to do so. "I have recharged enough," Starscream stated as he approached his leader,"beside, this orn's raid will be a mere formality."

_Raids were never a formality._

"What makes you so optimistic about it?" Megatron asked casually, which made Starscream huff.

"The strategy was my idea," he said flatly, and he almost sounded offended, as if it should have been obvious: A plan thought by him couldn't fail. And it didn't matter if it already had, dozen of times in the past, a fact that obviously didn't do as much as breach his self-confidence.

Walking past his leader nonchalantly- always the very picture of arrogance, the seeker picked the canister he found on the desk and served himself a full cube of its content. Taking a sip, he let out a sigh of satisfaction and leaned backward against the piece of furniture. Entirely unafraid of what his actions could cost him, he regarded his leader with a superiority-laden smirk.

Megatron sneered at him, hiding the something that never failed to awaken inside of him at the mere sight of his second-in-command. His spark stirred within his chassis, but he would sooner let it consume him whole, than admit to its existence.

And he wouldn't make the first step in starting what Starscream had undoubtedly come for; a game that had lasted for years without any of them growing bored of it.

Starscream knew, but he just remained where he was, smiling cockily and drinking his energon as if he had all the time in the world.

Truth was, they didn't have much time, they never really had.

"Ah enough, already!" Megatron growled after a full breem had been wasted. He snatched Starscream's drink from the seeker's hands, threw it somewhere, placed an arm around his second's waist and forcefully pulled him closer.

Starscream landed on his leader's lap with a victorious little laugh, more than satisfied to have won that first round. Acting fast, he dug his talons into Megatron's shoulders and bent down to claim a pair of white lips he liked to think were rightfully his to kiss and abuse. Already, he planned to win the second round as well.

Everything in their interactions was a constant challenge. For power or for pleasure, every occurrence was another occasion to prove a point. And whatever it was they had, it would never get in the way of their respective ambitions. Starscream wanted the throne for himself and he made sure, from time to time, to remind Megatron that he'd never stop challenging him for it. Megatron wasn't going to surrender his power, ever, to anyone, and the resulting arguments between them would still be as violent and painful as ever.

But, really, they didn't mind those as much as they used to...

Starscream stopped his musing entirely and focused on the much pleasant task of devouring his leader's mouth.

Only when both his and Megatron's lips were thoroughly bruised did he pull away from the kiss, reluctantly so. The feeling of their bodies pressed so hard against each other drowned their processors in a tick haze of lust they didn't wish to control anymore. As he leaned back to observe his leader's face, Starscream's optic sensors, dim and darkened by arousal, were met by an equally lust-filled gaze.

"Starscream!" Megatron growled deep, his voice unmistakably filled with a desire to claim and possess. Of course, in the way the warlord had pronounced his name, Starscream heard everything that hadn't been said. But he paid it no heed: he was here for his sole, egoistic pleasure.

"Megatron!" He hissed wantonly, wanting to sound irritated but failing completely. What if there was something else to this...relationship? It wasn't like he'd ever admit it to himself anyway.

Groaning in desire, Megatron pulled the seeker back against his overheated frame and latched his mouth on an appealing gray throat that immediately let out a- highly erotic- gasp of pleasure. What if his spark wanted nothing but to merge with the other it felt so near? It wasn't like he'd ever allow that to happen.

Their interface panels clicked open almost simultaneously. Although they were usually never satisfied until they'd spend themselves thoroughly in their physical activities- those which involved more pleasure than pain- they both knew they had to be quick about it; only a few breems later, the troops would assemble for the pre-battle briefing.

Holding fast onto each other, their hands stroking and groping hard enough to leave dents in their wake, they started to grind against each other. They wanted more, far more, but the friction would have to do this time.

Pressing their needy frames flush, so hard that their paint almost started to transfer onto the other, they started to move languorously against each other. As their equipment, rock hard, slid and rubbed together in a most pleasant way, they moaned, groaned and screamed their pleasure with no shame or restrain.

They didn't need to be cautious, for no room was better soundproofed than Megatron's quarters, and it had proved quite useful on more than one occurrence.

Their burning optics met and both mechs held their passion-filled gaze, as if starting a staring contest, which was actually the case. Here again, there would be a challenge.

Starscream tried to smirk but couldn't hold onto his own loud verbal expressions of bliss. Megatron tried to grin, but that only made him look like his head was about to explode somehow, and deep growls of pleasure still passed through his clenched denta anyway.

Shifting his pelvis forward as much as he could, the seeker- always treacherous, even then- bent his back in a graceful bow and tried to slow down the pace to get a better control of the situation. But then, naturally, all Megatron had to do was slid a hand between them to reverse the situation once again.

"Ooh fragger!" Starscream spluttered as the warlord did something very nice with his thumb and something even nicer with his index finger. He couldn't take it anymore, couldn't hold onto it, it was far too- damn-good. A jerk of his own hips was all it took to make him scream his overload for the universe to hear. ( and because of/thanks to the sound-proofed walls, it was just Megatron's audios that were painfully assaulted)

Starscream swore it would be the last time he'd let himself be fooled like that, yet he looked nothing but smug when Megatron succumbed to his own climax with a mighty roar, not an astro-second later.

Basking in the afterglow, they didn't make a move to separate and couldn't care less about the mess they had made on their frames.

They never thought further into this, never wanted to either. It was much easier that way. They desired each other's frame, took as much pleasure as they could gain out of their...romps, there was nothing else to that.

Future rulers of the Universe do not have _feelings._

In Megatron's private washracks, they turned their back on each other as they cleaned away all the evidences of what they had just done. None of them wanted for their...little secret to be discovered by the rest of the army. No one knew, not even Soundwave or Starscream's trine mates.

Their relationship didn't exist, period. And, anyway, it wasn't a relationship.

Megatron discreetly turned around to peer at his second-in-command as the solvent worked to make them presentable.

The clear liquid ran down across the expense of two magnificent wings, always held high in pride, droplets traveling down and caressing the curve of the seeker's back and red hips, to finish their course along his powerful thighs and thrusters... it was altogether too tempting.

"I am aware of how irresistible I look, but you ought to hurry up, Megatron."

The warlord looked back up, way up, at his second-in-command's smirking face. "Don't tell me what to do!" He warned, cursing himself for having been caught. No need to worry, he thought with relief; he had sounded threatening enough. Starscream grinned. Well, maybe not enough after all.

Megatron turned away with a low growl.

There was something truly frustrating about dealing with that seeker, _but damn did he have a pretty face..._

The Decepticon leader wished they had more time on their hands.

__

A pretty face on top of a unique, abrasive personality...

But in the command center, the troops were already waiting.

__

...On top of a brilliant mind.

He had to get ready within a breem.

Future rulers of the Universe do _not_ have feelings.

OooIOIooO

The raid went more or less as planned. And although what happened on the field didn't matter as much as the final result, only few expectations weren't met in the end.

Prime and his dim-witted Autobots had showed up, of course, but their appearance had been taken into account in the strategy-making. This time though, unlike those other times during which they had failed to prepare, their enemies had been, for a lack of better words, deceived.

While Optimus Prime arrived for the clash, all morale in shiny armor, thinking he was defending the power plant, he didn't even realize that not all Decepticons were there to 'welcome' him and his mechs. A handful of them had been cleverly dispatched elsewhere, pumping fresh energon into cubes from an isolated electric plant, where no one and nothing could stop them.

As for Megatron, lead role of today's comedy, he was proud as a peacock of his acting performance. And it was true; he played his part admirably. He even managed to pull the most genuinely surprised expression when Optimus came running at him, expression that shifted from bemused to falsely enraged as he and the Prime started their usual one-shall-stand-one-shall-fall personal fight.

"Prime! I could never have expected you'd come to spoil the day!" He growled menacingly and prepared to welcome his foe according to battlefield 'protocol'.

"You must be stopped, Megatron, no matter the cost!" Optimus Prime retorted. Unsubspacing his rifle as he came to a stop a few paces away from the Decepticon leader. He aimed but didn't fire yet.

"You and your outdated quotes!" Megatron laughed darkly, showing off white fangs, "Obviously, you are not even trying!" he stated, contempt dripping through his voice as he transformed his right hand into a spiked mace. With a wicked and energon-hungry smirk on his face, he beckoned his opponent over.

"Speak for yourself Megatron!" Optimus countered, and they both moved in for the clash.

It went on like this, as it usually went, for a joor or two. Autobots fighting Decepticons, loud exchanges of laser fire and punches, dust and smoke, empty threats and outdated insults, and this lasted until the other team of Decepticons contacted Megatron to report that they had collected as much energon as Astrotrain could carry.

Time for the curtain to go down on a most brilliant show. Megatron disentangled himself from the wrestling match he was having with the Prime, roughly pushed him aside, opened his mouth and bellowed his trade-mark call.

"RETREAT!"

At that point, it was every Decepticon for himself. They just stopped fighting there and then, launched skyward and promptly flew back to base.

Left on the ground below, the Autobots watched them leave, shaking their fist at them with collegial shouts of victory. Coward 'cons always end up running away from the fight, with their tail between their tailpipes...As Ironhide so elegantly put it.

Yes the Decepticons did flee and, yes, they were ridiculed- again -for doing so. But the prize that awaited them at base was a proof of how advantageous the raid had been for them: Just a tad less than two thousand cubes of fresh energon, just more than what was needed to fill Shockwave's attic back on Cybertron.

Megatron contemplated today's catch with glee. "You've done well," he commented, looking at the small team of Decepticons that had collected the fuel: Astrotrain and the 'conehead' seekers.

"As a reward, I allow each of you to take five cubes from the stack." The warlord declared, feeling generous. "And for everyone," he added, turning to face the whole of his soldiers,"I decided that ninety cubes would be taken from the pile and saved for a well-deserved entertainment. The party will take place tonight in the recreational room!"

The announcement was welcomed with loud cheers and shouts of 'All hail Megatron'. Very satisfied with himself, the Decepticon leader regarded them smugly, proud of how he had tamed them all into being so loyal, obedient and completely awed by his superiority.

That reminded him...

Where in the pit was Starscream?

_To be continued._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Note on time measurement:**
> 
> Astro-second ( also, a nanoklik): half a second.
> 
> One breem: 8,3 minutes.
> 
> One klik: 45 secondes.
> 
> One joor: 83 minutes
> 
> One orn: 20,4 hours ( a day)
> 
> Decacycle: a bit more than one week.
> 
> Megacycle: a bit more than one month.
> 
> Solarcycle: One year on Earth.
> 
> Vorn: 83 years.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Glitched computers, Starscream being himself but with more ball bearings than usual. A lot of talking. Mentions of violence, and gore stuff (but nothing traumatizing I hope).

Chapter 2: There exists no such thing as luck.

 

_Very satisfied with himself, the Decepticon leader contemplated his army. He was more than proud of how well he had tamed them all into being so loyal, obedient and completely awed by his superiority._

_That reminded him..._

"Where is Starscream?"

Megatron focused his stare on two of his soldiers in particular. "You!" he pointed an accusing finger at Skywarp and Thundercracker, "you'd better tell me what your idiot of a trine leader is up to!"

"We...How could we know?" Thundercracker responded, not feeling very comfortable as every Decepticon's optics suddenly turned toward him and Skywarp, "We haven't seen him since he...well, since he crashed. We asked him if he needed help but he ordered that we keep our positions."

"Crashed?!" Megatron repeated slowly, with that too familiar tone of voice that presaged brutal and painful consequences for the one it was directed at. The two seekers took a cautious step back, not willing to share a fate the warlord usually reserved to their trine leader.

Thankfully for them, Megatron didn't have their destruction at the front of his wicked processor at that time.

He had suddenly fallen victim of a most alien feeling. It felt somewhat like fear, not that the great Slag maker knew what fear felt like in the first place, but it was slightly different, more focused.

He realized, with no little amount of shock, that he was worried.

About Starscream.

_Such a foolish idea!_

Immediately, and without letting it show, he buried the unwanted thought deep inside the junkyard of his mind, where rested all those other unwanted feelings he didn't want to acknowledge. Most of them, unsurprisingly, concerned his fool of a second-in-command.

"The imbecile!" the warlord growled, skillfully camouflaging his worry with anger, "an Air commander worthy of the function never crashes!"

"Do you...want us to go back there and search for him?" Thundercracker proposed. Their leader's ire was making him squirm with unease. Skywarp looked bored enough, though. The teleporter knew that his proven loyalty would keep him safe from Megatron's wrath, no matter what.

"No." Megatron replied, immediately this time. "Any Decepticon who stays behind must find their way back unaided. This rule applies to everyone. Is that clear?" he said, and the not-quite question solved the issue all naturally. No one dared reply to one of Megatron's rhetorical questions ( except Skywarp, but that didn't count.)

"You are all dismissed." the leader declared. Turning his back to the troops, he walked toward the entrance of his base, secretly wishing for three things:

One: that Starscream wasn't plotting behind his back.

Two: that, wherever he was, and if he wasn't plotting behind his back, the seeker wasn't too heavily damaged as to not be able to come back.

Three: that, if he came back, his second-in-command wouldn't be too upset about the whole thing.

OoOoOoO

A few breems prior...

"Curse the Autobots! Curse this stupid planet's gravity! And, above anything else, curse those stupid self-damage assessment computers!"

Starscream was cursing everyone and everything, and it was all he could possibly do for the time being.

PRIMARY AND SECONDARY FLIGHT SYSTEMS COMPROMISED

SUGGESTED COURSE OF ACTIONS: EMERGENCY LANDING

"Will you shut up, you damned thing!"

He was falling from the sky, with a broken wing that leaked a great deal of energon, a thruster leg that was so fragged it would probably have to be entirely replaced, and a glitching computer.

Which meant he had taken three lucky shots, and that Primus was an Autobot-sympathizer.

ATTENTION: ABNORMAL RESPONSE FROM ALTIMETER

"Of course, stupid. I'm free-falling!" he retorted, not because talking to the computer could possibly fix the thing, but because it kept his processor from switching to full-out panic.

His D.A computer was stuck at full volume and blared its junk through his head relentlessly. On top of that, and since the computer had started glitching, all he could see was a blinding and flashing red light in front his optics. Really, he didn't need this. The searing pain he felt in his wing and thruster made it quite obvious that he was damaged.

The pain, the audio-splitting siren-like noise and the blinding red light made him feel so dizzy and nauseous, that he couldn't control anything anymore. His undamaged thruster was unresponsive and his anti-gravity generator just didn't want to switch on. The seeker suspected that his malfunctioning D.A computer was sucking too much energy, which prevented his other systems to respond as they should, given the emergency of the situation.

"Computer off," he tried.

INVALID COMMAND

"Computer, enable manual control," he tried again.

INVALID COMMAND

He had to do something and fast.

"Computer, give computer localization," he demanded. If he needed to rip the damned thing off, he would do so eagerly.

COMPUTER LOCALIZATION: CENTRAL PROCESSOR.

But he wasn't ready to rip his own brain off to silence the glitch.

_Curse Shockwave and his stupid inventions, curse Megatron for forcing all the Decepticons to have these D.A computers installed in their brain box, and curse me for not having thrown a tantrum about it!_

He had no choice but to cope with it and keep trying to engage his second, undamaged, thruster.

Thankfully, after a couple failed attempts and a few very panicking nano-kliks, it finally ignited. Oh thanks Primus!

But, instead of slowing him down, it made him spin toward the ground even faster than before.

_Curse you to the pit, Primus!_

Amidst the cacophony in his head, his communicator crackled to life. /Starscream?/ Came the slightly concerned booming voice of Thundercracker. Did that guy know he sounded like a mountain slide?/Do you need help up there?/

/Keep your positions!/ Starscream commanded, screaming over the noise in his head. He didn't need for this raid to fail on top of everything. /You sure?/ Skywarp inquired.

/Do as I say! I'll manage./ And he switched off his comm. He'd call them later on so they could pick him up, when the fight would be over. He already loathed to have to wait, and so only to suffer further humiliation.

He still had a chance to avoid a very painful- and highly humiliating- deactivation though; In the area, the ground was sandy and relatively smooth, so the impact shouldn't be too hard, even if he was falling from significant heights. Perhaps then, once he had 'landed', he would still be 'healthy' enough to fix his computer then call his wing mates for assistance.

But he crashed, hard, and the only good thing about it was that the shock seemed to do the trick and shut his D.A computer up entirely.

Now, the bad news was that he landed right in the middle of a Dinobots huddle and, needless to say, they immediately noticed his noisy grand arrival.

"Me Sludge found a Decepticon!" One of them declared as they all surrounded the downed Air commander.

If Starscream had had doubts about religion in the past, this definitely cleared things up: _Primus was an Autobot._

"No! Me Grimlock found him!" The Dinobots' leader retorted, pushing his team mate away.

"Me Snarl saw him first."

Seeing that at least one deity was on his side, Starscream discretely crawled away. It hurt like pit and his frame felt like it had been beaten down by an army of insane enthusiastic blacksmiths, but he knew he had to get away before the stupid Dinobots settled their little squabble and remarked his escape attempt.

Not far to the south, there was a boulder that looked big enough to properly shelter him from sight. The seeker bit down on his lower lips to muffle his groans of pain as he pulled himself up on his hands and knees and crawled toward it, hoping that the robotic dinosaurs wouldn't be smart enough to follow the energon trail he was leaving on the rocky ground.

Dragging his sore carcass behind the boulder, he flung himself flush against its surface, offlined his optics and let out the wheezing intake he'd been keeping in all the way there.

In the distance, he could hear Megatron's retreat call and sighed in relief, knowing he wouldn't have to wait much longer to be safe. All he had to do now was call his wingmates for help. He didn't like it one bit, but it was still better than being caught by the...

"I told you I hit him," an obnoxious, familiar and quite unwelcome voice suddenly spoke, from far too close.

Slag.

Starscream looked up and saw the two mechs he least wanted to see: The infamous Autobots twins. They towered above him, grinning from audio to audio at their fantastic catch.

"Sure thing, bro, but that damage here is my doing!" The red Lamborghini pointed at his slagged thruster, looking utterly smug about what he claimed was his handiwork.

"Slideswipe, Sunflower," Starscream offered them his sweetest smile, "long time no see, I was starting to think you had gone rusty."

"Look who's talking, Screamy." Sideswipe said, poking the jet's head with the nuzzle of his gun, "You are the one who is soon going to rust!"

"Tsshhh your banters always suck!" The seeker reacted fast and, pointing both of his null-rays at them, he fired promptly.

SYSTEMS NOT RESPONDING. COMMAND INVALID.

SYSTEMS NOT RESPONDING. COMMAND INVALID.

Oh no, not this again, not now!

He froze with his arms stretched out in front of him, pointing a set of weapons that remained stubbornly cold and as harmless as youngling's toy-guns, it was almost comical.

Starscream's optics widened and his smile gradually faltered when he realized just how deep in slag he was. But he didn't have much time to dwell on it, because Sunstreaker took pity of his obvious shame and knocked him out with the butt of his rifle, effectively putting the red seeker out of his misery.

Have a nice nap, Screamer!

OooOoO

He came to eventually, and when he did, he didn't immediately offline his optics. His Damage Assessment computer was no longer blaring in his head and there was no flashing red light in his vision, which could only mean two things: Either his D.A computer had finally shorted out, or he'd just had a very realistic dream.

He strongly hoped it was the second option and that, upon opening his eyes, he would find himself safe and snug in his berth, back in his own quarters on the 'Victory'.

A few things were off though. Firstly, he couldn't hear Skywarp's snoring reach through the bulkhead.

Secondly, the berth he was laying on was far less comfortable than his own and his frame felt just as sore as after the crash. Thirdly, the mag cuffs around his wrists and ankles that restrained him to the berth and held his arms and legs spread apart were very tight.

Conclusion: This was no dream, his computer had shorted out, he was still badly damaged and he was now prisoner of the enemy.

_What a bummer!_

Resigned, he onlined his optics to a scene any wounded prisoner could have expected: from what he could make of his surrounding, it appeared that he was in the Ark's medbay. Around the surgical berth he was laying on stood the Autobot medic ( the infamous Hatchet) and the Prime himself.

"So," the seeker started calmly, doing his best to look as bored as one could as he discretely tested the solidity of his restrains, "how much will you sell me for?"

Because that's what they wanted, right? Bargain with Megatron in order to exchange him against energon or a cease-fire. What else could those soft-sparked idiots want from him?

"We have no intention to let you go back to your faction, Starscream." Optimus replied in that stern tone of voice he usually reserved for Megatron. It was probably an honor, the seeker thought, sarcastic.

"I'm sorry, Prime," the air commander said with a toothy grin, "But don't expect me to sign up for your team. And before you even try to persuade me, be certain that no amount of lecturing or Autobot propaganda will make me change my mind about that."

He stopped pulling at the cuffs, it was no use.

Ratchet actually huffed at that and Optimus just shook his head in disapproval. "Although I am always ready to give a mech the opportunity to change for the good and join our side, I do not expect that from you," he retorted.

"Your presence here will serve...other purposes." the Prime added after a brief moment of silence. He looked away then, as if he didn't agree with his own decision, which made Starscream feel slightly uncomfortable for some reason.

The seeker looked at Ratchet and detected the same unease in the medic's facial expression. He guessed this couldn't be good for him.

"You must understand that the intel you possess as the Second-in-command of the Decepticon army is very valuable to us..." Optimus explained slowly, trailing off because he didn't need say more; the seeker was smart enough to realize what it was all about.

"You are going to torture me until I spill what I know." Starscream stated, apparently unaffected by his upcoming predicament. His optics even dimmed in what looked a lot like relief, which made the Prime blink in confusion.

"Go ahead, then," Starscream continued, "do your worse and see if that works!" He wasn't exactly fond of pain, but in nine million years of warfare, he had experienced all kind of agony and knew he could handle whatever torture the Autobots would subject him to.

Pit, he'd cut his own tongue if he had to. Anything rather than leak even the most insignificant piece of information to the enemy.

He wasn't always loyal to Megatron, that was a given, but that didn't mean he wasn't loyal to their cause. He strongly believed into it, its values and foundations, and he had always fought for it with all his spark . Just like Megatron himself, the seeker wanted nothing more but to claim Cybertron as Decepticon territory and see their enemies annihilated, each to the very last one of them.

And then, of course, if he could rule over that Empire as supreme leader, it would be just that more perfect.

Snapping out of his little day-dreaming, Starscream looked at the Prime and added, most seriously: "But you have to know that, if you really want this war to end neatly and quickly, there is another way."

"What is it?" Prime asked halfheartedly.

"You could surrender." the seeker declared with a very smug smirk.

Optimus Prime sighed deeply. He brought a hand up to his head and brushed it across his forehead tiredly. "I should have expected such an answer coming from you," he said, exhaustion seeping through in his voice, "But you have to know that we won't torture you. We, Autobots, do not Inflict harm on helpless prisoners, this is not our way. We have other, less painful methods we can use to extract the information we require from your processor."

And that is where Starscream started to truly be afraid. "I know for sure that you don't have a telepath within your ranks, and I don't see how you could possibly extract any information from my processor without brain surgery, which I am sure isn't part of your ways either."

"You are right," Optimus replied, "We won't operate on you in such an invasive way."

"And it is just the perfect coincidence," Ratchet chose that moment to enter the conversation, as if on cue, "that my esteemed colleague Chromedome is coming to visit us."

"He is a mnemo-surgeon. In other words, a specialist of the memory," Prime precised. "He has special abilities for non-invasive processor diagnosis and surgery, which in the same time allow him to read someone's thoughts better than a telepath could. He doesn't like to use his medical competences for forced data-extraction, but for the sake of peace he'll certainly be willing to land an helping hand."

"Literally!" Ratchet chuckled, but he was quickly silenced by Optimus' disapproving look.

"Anyway, his methods are painless and will leave you undamaged." The Autobot leader finished.

Starscream frowned deeply and he pressed his lips together in a thin line.

He hadn't needed the Prime's explanations to know exactly who Chromedome was. Although he had never meet the mech in the metal, the surgeon's reputation did precede him and Starscream was well aware of his abilities. He'd read his name and achievements in at least a dozens of scientific publications.

Chromedome's main tools were his agile fingers, from the tip of which he could unsheathe thin needles and introduce them in his patients' neck with only little pain involved. From there, he could easily detect any malfunction and operate with great accuracy.

Which meant there was nothing Starscream could possibly do to keep his precious data safe from the Autobots. He was, for a lack of better words, doomed.

...Or perhaps there still existed a way out of this. He'd have to think it over. But for now, and no matter which decision he'd take in the end, he didn't let it show that he still had hope. The expression on is face plate remained one of resigned surrender.

If there was one thing Skywarp had taught him over the years, it would be this: if you look dumb, you never look suspicious

"And what will happen to me once you have finished downloading the content of my databanks? Will you execute me?" He inquired while trying to sound as grim as he looked.

"That will strongly depend on your behavior," Optimus said, "if you agree to cooperate with us in bringing a quick end to this war, we'll show lenience the day you'll have to face the war court."

"Ah!" Starscream huffed mockingly, "Strapping a mech to a table and have a mnemo-surgeon stick their needles into his brain module to extract information, is that what you call 'cooperation'?! To me this is nothing else but mind-rape!"

Optimus Prime immediately shook his head and proceeded to explain himself, "You misunderstood me, I do intend to give you a choice. If you agree to speak willingly, we won't have to resort to Chromedome's techniques."

On the table the seeker chuckled. "You want me to talk? Fine, I will," he sighed, faking defeat and resignation.

As hope suddenly lightened up the Autobot's face, Starscream thought up his next words carefully and prepared to savor the instant.

"Listen attentively, what I am going to tell you might be very informative," he started, the Prime half-consciously edging closer at the words, "There is only one reason why this war has lasted so long..." Starscream paused for effect. "And this reason is you."

"You like to portray yourself as a hero, but you are just a puppet," the seeker continued, "Back when the war started, you were the pawn of the Senate. Now you directly depend of the fleshlings as they provide you with free, easy energon so you could defend them from the menace we, Decepticons represent."

He smirked.

"The truth is that you are a coward, Prime. You gave up on Cybertron a long time ago, thinking our world was beyond saving. All you seem to be able or willing to do nowadays is prevent us to ship energon back to Cybertron, and this only because you are afraid that we could still save our home planet and prove that you were wrong. Think of it, Orion Pax, you are and you will always be a traitor to your own kind."

Starscream was done. He concluded his speech with a knowing smile, and although the words seemed to drift on the Autobot's armor like water on a duck's wings, Starscream knew that his little speech had hit a sensitive spot in the other mech's spark. The blue optics visibly hardened.

"Obviously you do not wish to save yourself," The Prime simply said. Straightening up, he stepped away from the medical bench.

"Then we have that in common," Starscream retorted, enjoying this more than he probably should and yet not caring a bit.

For an umpteenth time, Optimus shook his head like a creator disappointed by his stubborn sparkling, but his attitude made it obvious that he wanted out of the room and away from the seeker as soon as possible. "You still have time to reconsider," he informed him, "Until Chromedome arrives."

He took his leave then, followed closely by Ratchet. They pushed some control as they exited the medbay and a full row of glowing energon bars materialized all around Starscream's berth.

"What he said...It was all lies." Ratchet spoke after the door had slid shut behind them.

"The humans need us...more than our planet." Optimus felt the need to defend himself of Starscream's accusations. "Cybertron is lost, and soon I'll arrange to have Elita One and the femmes transported here on Earth."

The medic patted his friend's back to give him some comfort, "She didn't agree the last time you proposed they joined us, right?"

"Indeed...She doesn't want to leave Cybertron, she still has hope..."

"You know, Optimus," Ratchet confessed, "sometimes we all want to have hope."

oOoOoOo

Back in the medical quarters, Starscream let out a hum of content.

The seeker allowed himself a brief moment of delight before his expression shifted back to full seriousness. He didn't know how much time he had before they came back. What he knew though was that, whatever he would do, he needed to act swiftly and efficiently.

Considering his situation, the solutions at hand, his choices and their alternatives as well as the pros and the cons, Starscream thought as fast as his high-speed processor allowed. Quickly, he came to the conclusion that he only had one single option.

A rather radical one.

Well, this was bound to happen one orn or another, he thought. Shifting slightly on the berth, Starscream sighed deeply and steeled his resolve. There really was no other way out of this dead-end, and he didn't even have the possibility to back off.

Rubbing honesty onto the Prime's face had been so highly satisfying, perhaps he would keep that memory in his databanks.

Everything else needed to be erased until nothing was left for the enemy to find.

The process of fully emptying the content of his memory module was relatively long and quite tedious, but Starscream was glad for the mental distraction it offered as he pulled hard on his restrains until the wires in his right wrist snapped off, one by one.

Why in the pit did they make those mag cuffs so damn snug?!

The pain was sharp, excruciating and long-lasting. But finally, and after half a breem of searing agony, his severed hand slipped from the berth and fell on the floor where it gave a few last dying twitches.

The seeker bit down on his lower lip hard to mutter his groans of pain. This wasn't too bad though; he'd seen far worse in the past.

From the stub at the end of his bleeding arm extended a pair of pliers. Grateful for these little gadgets he was equipped with ( the D.A computer had been a liability. Thankfully, not all of these trinkets were as useless)

Unfortunately, nothing was easy, and the pliers didn't make up for the agility of his lost hand. After several failed attempts at opening his cockpit cleanly, the seeker lost patience. He gave up and smashed his tool onto the polished glass instead.

This earned him another wave of agonizing pain but he didn't let that stop him.

Even with his databanks empty, he knew that his secrets weren't safe yet. While being a Cybertronian's source of life itself, a spark also worked as a backup processors: All of his memories were still available inside of the orb of energy.

And while he highly doubted that the Autobots would resort to a spark-search to get the data they needed from him, one was never too cautious.

The worse things were made out of despair.

The seeker's intakes had gone ragged and quite loud by then, which was unfortunate since the success of the operation strongly depended on its discretion.

He really didn't have much more time; he had spotted the camera and could already hear some agitation in the hall outside of the medbay. He needed to get this over with, now.

Starscream held his breath, clenched his teeth, offlined his optics and, then, with a swift and powerful swing of his arm, he brought the tool down and stabbed himself right through the spark casing.

Everything was better than give the Autobots the slightest chance to win this war.

The seeker gave out a deep hum of content, relieved that the intense pain subsided as fast as his vital energies escaped his pierced chest.

Numbness was a much more pleasant sensation.

His optics flickered on and off a few times before the light faded from them entirely. All of his motor joints loosened and his head rolled aside onto the berth where it laid motionless.

The empty frame relaxed completely and sagged down onto the cold, energon-stained piece of furniture as its colors steadily drained away.

When Ratchet barged in, alerted by Prowl whose processor had almost crashed when he had witnessed the scene through his monitors, it was already too late.

Cursing like a surgeon from the pits of Kaon, the ambulance quickly moved to check if there was still something he could do to save their valuable prisoner. Unfortunately, Starscream's body was already as gray as a corpse could get.

"...Fragger died faster than he used to fly!" The medic grumbled, sarcastic.

But as his gaze drifted to the seeker's face, a small detail caught his attention and he shivered despite himself. Starscream's signature smirk looked as unsettling as ever, even when frozen in death.

_To be continued._


End file.
